Chapter 3 – Lacrosse

It was the first day of Lacrosse practice and Stiles was psyched as always. He knew he had like zero chance of actually playing, especially with so many werewolves on the team, but he still loved the game and being a part of the team. Even if coach still didn’t know his name.

He knew he had to be careful, Derek had been very “affectionate” since the whole Isaac problem and he was currently a walking wound. He was covered head to toe in bruises, scratches, bites, and more it was like Derek was marking him as property or something. While he loved it and wouldn’t change that for anything in the world he also knew that he couldn’t let anyone else see them so he took precautions.

He showed up already in uniform and just used the locker room to put on his protective gear, no one thought anything of it, it was just Stiles being his usual weird self. Well no one but Isaac who kept glancing at him in worry. After practice he would just lag behind until he had the locker room to himself for changing and voila no one ever need know a thing.

Finstock was in his office getting the roster finished when he heard someone in the locker room just down the hall. Shouldn’t they all be dressed and gone by now, most of them couldn’t wait to be gone after first practice. Standing reluctantly he went to investigate hoping he wasn’t about to bust some dumb fuck for drugs, knowing his luck it was just Greenberg and that would be worse than anything. There was just something about that kid that just rubbed him the wrong way.

So lost in his thoughts he almost didn’t see Bilinski ah, no Stilinski? What the fuck, Stiles coming out of the shower. He had a towel around his waist thank god, over the years he’d seen enough accidental teen junk to last him an eternity. He was torn between just turning to leave, Stiles was harmless after all, and yelling at the boy for lingering when he finally came out of the shadows that had cloaked him before. What he saw horrified him. The kid was beat to hell and back.

What the fuck? He knew the Sheriff wasn’t responsible the man was stand up, all around good guy, and his reaction to others beating their kids was just too strong for him to ever lay hand on his own. So who had done this? And why was he hiding it?

There was no question about it now, showing up already in uniform staying late to change he was definitely hiding this from everyone. If he’d done his customary burger run after first practice instead of finishing the rosters he wouldn’t have seen it either. The only question now, what to do? He backtracked quietly to his office to think.

He hated getting involved in the lives of his students more than necessary, their lives these days were just so damn complicated. But his conscience wouldn’t let him just leave this alone, so what to do.

If he went to the Sheriff that could end badly all around, what if the Sheriff was the one doing it, he didn’t think so but stranger things had happened especially in this town lately. Or worse it could go the other way and he could go balistic and maybe do something to cost him his badge, which would be a crying shame.

If he reported it to the state and it wasn’t the Sheriff then Stilinski could be yanked out of a stable home for no reason, losing his only stability during a time of crisis.

If he tried to deal with it himself he’d just mess it up he knew he would he always did with things like this and from the marks he saw covering the boys back and torso the last thing Stilinski needed was for someone to make things worse for him.

What about his friends? Did they know? Could he get them involved? Would that even be ethical?

Come to think of it Layhe had been giving Stilinski weird looks all through practice, he’d just thought they were having some sort of fight or whatever and were trying to keep it off the field. Now though he had to wonder if maybe Layhe knew. McCall didn’t know jack, in general and in this instance, if he did he wouldn’t be keeping quiet about any of it. Stilinski was like his brother he would be shouting it from the rafters until someone sat up took notice and helped his friend.

He didn’t really know that many others who were actually friends with Stilinski. There were some who were more passing friendly but they were not friends exactly, at least not as far as he could see. What a sad thought that was, only two friends and no one seeming to notice when he was in serious shit.

Hearing the door to the locker room open and then promptly close he made a decision. He would do nothing for now, not until he at least talked to Layhe to try to find out what part of this he was missing. He was missing something he knew he just couldn’t piece it all together, he didn’t have enough information yet, and he was starting to think that Layhe might be in the same boat with that. Maybe if they put their heads together they could come up with something.

Stiles was beyond pumped, the first practice of the season always flooded him with adrenaline, and today was no different. Well, it was different in one way, instead of burning off the excess energy with marathon gaming and talking a mile a minute all he had to do was go see Derek. Not that Derek would mind, he’d all but ordered him to come straight over after practice that morning, something about scents and too many people touching him.

Derek had finally broken down and gotten himself an apartment the month before after Stiles had pointed out that they couldn’t continue to just meet in a teenage boys bedroom and out in the middle of the freaking woods. Not that those times weren’t beyond awesome, but still some privacy without having to worry about parents or police would be equally as awesome. Finally standing at the door of the loft, rocking back and forth on his heels, he raised his hand to knock. Before he could make contact with the door it was ripped open and he was pulled inside by an enthusiastic werewolf who had obviously been waiting for him.

He found himself pressed up against the door, Derek’s hands moving so fast it felt like they were everywhere and his clothes were rapidly hitting the floor leaving him bared to his lovers eyes, hands, and oh god mouth.

“What took you so long? Practice ended over an hour ago!”

“Well yeah, but I had to hang back a little so no one would see me changing and get the wrong idea. We talked about this remember.”

A grunt was the only response he got, which was fine with him, he’d become an expert at understanding the unspoken language of one Derek Hale. At the moment Derek was not happy.

“Too many people touching you.”

“Yeah, dude it’s a contact sport.”

“Don’t like it.”

Without another word Stiles found himself propelled a few feet to his left until his momentum was stopped by Derek’s kitchen table. Within moments Derek was right behind him, and it felt like his hands had never left his body. It felt so good. Slight pressure against his shoulder had him leaning forward laying his upper body across the table and presenting himself for Derek’s enjoyment. This was what made his life whole, being with Derek, making Derek happy.

Without any warning, or much prep beyond some light fondling he found himself being dominated by an aggressive werewolf. Each thrust moved the table causing it to rock and sway with the force. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut loving the sensation, loving Derek.

Suddenly it hit him just how much Derek didn’t like other people touching him. Hell, he didn’t even like others seeing him or really seeing more of him than was necessary. Pretty much everything about Lacrosse Derek didn’t like. At least when it came to Stiles being a part of it. Without a second thought he decided then and there what he was going to do. He was going to quite the team.